Page 87 of The Idiot

Gosh, I’m in love with an impossible, unpredictable ABBA fan who just happens to be a dude. I have to laugh despite the pain of uncertainty.

Sighing, I relinquish my hold on Pinocchio and shut the closet door. On the dresser, that ugly little rainbow pot Miranda gave Pete for his birthday last year catches my eye. I’m surprised he still has the thing for how much he went on about its asymmetrical shape bothering him.

“Oh, um, I’ll get that,” Cam offers, looking anxious as he takes it from me.

Geesh. Did he think I was going to break it? Man, he’s really got it bad for my brother if he’s protective over his knickknacks.

Watching him stroke it lovingly before he sets it on a nest of bubble wrap in an open box has me feeling all kinds of envious. For some reason, it reminds me of that morning Murph rolled on top of me on the cruise and smacked my forehead injury. He wasn’t just worried about me being sandwiched by the grandpas. He was jealous. I’m such an idiot.

And what did I do? I used him like a sex toy for the last month and a half.

I want an ugly pot. I want a…boyfriendwho wants to protect my pot just because it’s mine. And I want Murph to be the protector of my pot.

Why did he imply I’d not want to tell my family? I thought avoiding him during Thanksgiving was a way to protect his privacy. I thought that’s what he wanted. I can tell them. I mean, of course I can, now that my dumbass realizes I’ve fallenfrom the Murph tree and hit every branch on the way down. Pete did it, and no one died.

Speaking of which, I still don’t understand how Pete managed to snag another human being, let alone one as nice as Cam. My brother is… more emotionally complicated than Murph. But if Pete can do it, surely, I can find a way to reassure Murph that weeks of orgasms meant more to me than he realizes.

“I’m in love with Murph,” I blurt.

Cam’s brows hike, but then his expression turns curious. “Um… your best friend, Murph?”

“Yeah,” I practically wheeze, still high on the relief over saying it aloud.

“Oh. Well, congratulations.”

His smile is bright and genuine, making me blush over how stupidly giddy I feel. Shifting, he looks uncertain about what to do next after my verbal diarrhea.

Right. That was a bit out of the blue.

“There’s, uh, one problem, though. We’ve kind of just been messing around,” I explain, rubbing at the back of my neck, divulging our activities. It’s not that I’m embarrassed, it just feels a bit traitorous toward Murph. Yet, if he was serious about the hand-holding, and telling my family, and growing old together, then they’d kind of figure all that out, so I forge ahead. “And… well, I thought we were just messing around. He was helping me figure things out since I’ve never… done anything with a guy before, but then come to find out, he loves me.”

A puff of laughter leaves my lips, getting to admit that aloud. It feels like pinning a badge to my chest.

Mine. Murph’s love ismine.

Man, if I thought I was needy before, knowing that now is going to make me a total stage-five clinger like Philip. He’s got to talk this out with me. I can’t be a clinger with nothing to cling to. I’ll perish.

“Like really loves me,” I elaborate. “And when he told me, we kind of had a fight because he’s got, like, grizzly bear feelings—he hoards them all to himself and then explodes likeroar!and then stomps back to his cave.” I gesture with my hands, so Cam understands the level of difficulty I’m dealing with here. “So, I didn’t even get a second to process or say anything.”

I stop to suck in a breath. Cam’s eyes are about as wide as saucers.

“Wow,” he mutters.

“Right?” I laugh. Good. He gets it.

“And… you processed then, I take it?” he ventures.

“Yeah, but…”

“But Murph doesn’t know how you feel?”

“No. And I don’t know how to tell him. Or, I mean, of course I can just tell him, but he’s… he’s…”

“A grizzly bear?”

“Exactly! A big, stubborn, sexy, aggravating, three-moled-ass grizzly bear,” I grumble, rubbing my fists into my eyes. “So, I doubt he’ll believe me or listen to what I have to say. I don’t know what to do.”

Did he just laugh? Dropping my hands, I watch him fold his arms across his chest, smiling sweetly at me, shaking his head.

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